by Colin Forbes
Some faces he recognized from his prowls round the marinas. The sailing buffs. But no one he could see from the old Kenya brigade.
Tun, isn't it?' Diana said. 'Hove parties…'
`Must have cost him a mint of money,' Tweed replied. 'Where does Dr Berlin get his money from?'
`Various organizations which support his activities to help the refugees. Most of the guests here will have contributed to one association or another. They feel they are all right, so they give something to help the less fortunate…'
'I wonder if anyone audits his books?'
`Cynic!'
The party broke up suddenly in a riot of confusion at exactly six o'clock.
The three of them were standing near the entrance gates – which had been closed – when the fleet of cars pulled in at the kerb. Kuhlmann himself pushed open the right-hand 'gate, followed by a team of men in plain clothes.
Danny Warning tried to stop him. Kuhlmann shoved his identity folder in the stocky security chief's face. He pushed him aside roughly, shouting orders to his companions.
`This is private property,' Warning rasped.
`And this…' Kuhlmann shoved a piece of paper in his face, 'is a warrant to search the grounds and the premises. Get out of my way or you're arrested…'
A sudden hush fell over the crowd of guests. A sea of faces turned as Kuhlmann marched across the lawn towards the mansion. With a gesture he summoned Tweed, Newman and Diana to follow him. The team of men with him spread out, taking guests' names.
They broke out beyond the crowd and Tweed stopped as Kuhlmann wrenched up the rope with a savage jerk. Tweed grasped both Newman and Diana by the arm as Kuhlmann moved across the open lawn.
'Look,' said Tweed. 'The terrace…'
Dr Berlin's special guests still sat at the oblong table, all faces turned towards Kuhlmann. But there was a gap in the centre. Dr Berlin's chair was empty.
'Diana,' Tweed said urgently, 'is there any other way out of this place?'
'Only the drive alongside the lawn…'
As she spoke Tweed heard the sound of a car's engine driving past them down the drive concealed behind trees towards the Mecklenburger-strasse. He turned and began running for the gates. Diana was amazed at how fast he could move. Newman ran after him and Diana followed.
Tweed reached the gate as a black Mercedes with tinted windows swung out of the drive and past the gates heading for the ferry. He ran after the vehicle, thanked God he was wearing the safari jacket Diana had persuaded him to buy. He kept on running and in the distance he saw the ferry was about to leave. He paced himself, running more steadily, covering a lot of ground.
He was in time to see the Mercedes – which had a tinted rear window – driving aboard the ferry. He kept on running. The silhouette of a man sitting in the rear turned and looked back. Tweed had a vague impression of a head wearing a beret, a black beard. Dr Berlin gave him a little wave and then the ramp was raised and the ferry departed for Travemunde.
Tweed stopped running, swore aloud, stood panting to regain his breath as Newman and Diana caught up with him. `He got away,' said Tweed, wiping sweat off his brow. `You look furious,' Diana said. 'Why?'
`The bastard waved at me. But it's not that. I know that man. I've seen him before. Talked to him. I'm sure of it.'
`That's impossible,' Newman objected.
`I know him,' Tweed repeated. 'That little wave he gave me. Give me time. I'll remember…'
Fifteen
They boarded the ferry when it returned. Diana walked by herself to the bows and stood, arms folded, gazing at Travemunde. Tweed stayed back amidships with Newman.
`Let her alone,' he advised, 'something has upset her. When we get off I'll take her back to the Sudwind. She said something significant recently and I'm damned if I can. recall what it was. Maybe talking to her will bring it back…'
`In any case you like her,' Newman remarked drily. `And how will you spend your time?' countered Tweed.
`I have to report on the party to Ann Grayle. I promised her I would.'
`Then you must do your duty,' Tweed replied with a blank expression.
He had noticed a change in Newman's attitude to women since his return to London from the year in France. During his time abroad, Newman had told him, he had wandered round France on his own, trying to forget the bizarre murder of his wife in Estonia. He'd had nothing to do with women while in France. Now, gradually, he was returning to normal. His preoccupation with Ann Grayle proved the point.
`Why do you think Kuhlmann organized that raid on Dr Berlin's home?' Newman asked.
`No idea. One thing is for sure. The operation was Kuhlmann at his best and most ruthless. He exploited the element of surprise to the limit. The choice of timing.'
`I don't follow you…'
`Six o'clock in the evening. On the dot. He let the party get well under way. Everyone – including the guards – would be in a relaxed mood. Kuhlmann struck when they were at their most vulnerable. And that includes the guests.'
Tweed remained silent until the ferry was slowing prior to landing. He made his request as a throwaway remark.
`One thing I'd like you to do. Find out where Diana gets her money from. She has no visible means of support, as they say.'
`Ann Grayle has a pretty acid answer to that one…'
`Try that man she has on board. Ben. I must be off now. We can meet back at the Jensen…'
Diana was waiting for him just beyond the lowered ramp. She looped her arm inside his. Under her wide-brimmed hat her face looked even whiter than usual and he sensed her nervousness. It was the hottest hour of the day. The sun beat down on Travemunde, the ground gave up the heat it had absorbed during the day, the air was foetid.
Will you come back with me to the boat, Tweedy?'
`Of course. We can have a talk. That was a somewhat shattering end to the party…'
`And I'm responsible. Wait till we get to the boat and then I'll explain.'
`Champers do you?' she asked as they walked over the gangplank.
`Splendid idea. You're full of them.' Tweed's mood had become jocular. 'Let me uncork the bottle. Then we won't get half of it on the deck instead of inside us.'
He followed her down the companionway and she opened the fridge, produced a bottle and held it up for his inspection. 'Dom Perignon? Appeals?'
Tweed took the bottle and began peeling off the foil. She placed glasses on the working top, crossed to the leather couch and perched on it, her legs coiled beneath her like a cat.
`Oh, look,' she said, 'there's an envelope propped against the cupboard. Be a darling and open it for me. Later…'
Tweed had already noticed the envelope. Expensive paper. Her name was typed in capitals. DIANA CHADWICK. He opened the bottle, poured into the two tulip glasses she had placed on the counter, and carried them over to the couch. She eased her way to one end.
`Sit with me. I'm a bit edgy…'
`Get some of this down. You'll feel wonderful. Cheers!'
`Cheers!' She drank the whole glass, he refilled it, and she drank half the contents of the fresh glass. The sparkle came back into her deep blue eyes. 'Now, I'll tell you. A very grim policeman came aboard early this morning. Grim, but I liked him. If that makes any sense. A man called Kuhlmann. He reminded me of a human powerhouse. Could I have a drop more?'
`That's what it's for.'
`He's very clever, this Kuhlmann. No one else could have persuaded me to tell him what I did.'
`And what did you tell him?'
`About that dinghy with the outboard I heard crossing over the channel from the beach after midnight…'
`I said you ought to tell the police.'
`I know.' She was playing with a lace handkerchief. She looked up suddenly at Tweed. 'I also told him Dr Berlin has an outboard-powered dinghy, that the one I saw – the wake as I told you – was heading for the marina where he keeps his dinghy. That, I am sure, is why the police raided the party. I feel awful about it now
.'
`Surely a lot of people have that type of craft?'
`I suppose so…' She drank more champagne and went vague.
`Let's have a look at your letter,' Tweed said briskly.
He stood with his back to her, masking what he was doing. He picked up the envelope between the flat of his hands.
Fortunately, the flap had been hastily closed and came open easily. He extracted the folded message with his fingertips, opened it and read the brief message which bore signs of being hastily typed. Even the signature was typed. He read it aloud to her.
"Will be away for a while. Look after Sudwind. Expenses waiting at bank. Berlin." ' He spoke over his shoulder. 'Can I keep this for a bit?'
`Why not?'
He slipped the folded sheet back into the envelope and slid the envelope inside his breast pocket. When he turned round she was lying back, her head resting on the cushion, staring up at the cabin roof. He sat down on the couch again.
`Diana, I can't quite understand it. He must have had this typed and delivered earlier this afternoon – which means he knew he would be leaving…'
`Not necessarily. That big Mercedes has everything inside it – including a desk flap and a small portable typewriter. He could have typed that while they were crossing on the ferry. Then he could have given it to one of his assistants, dropped him off when they landed so he could deliver it here while we were waiting for the ferry to come back.'
`He types himself?'
`Yes. He's always typing little notes with instructions.' Her eyes were sleepy as she watched him. 'He has many talents people don't know about. He plays the piano well. His favourite composer is Chopin. Stay the night with me here, Tweedy.'
`I was coming to that.' His tone was businesslike. 'After two murders nearby – and like those poor girls, you are also a blonde – you are not spending one more night aboard this cruiser. You come back to the Jensen and sleep there in your room. Is that clearly understood?'
`It's nice to have someone who cares. Yes, it is understood. I promise.'
`Then we'd better find Newman and get back to Lubeck. `After we've finished the bottle…'
She stretched out her right leg and rested it on his lap. He squeezed her ankle with his free hand, then shook his head as she raised herself and moved towards him.
`I'm fond of you, Diana, but I'm fully-occupied with a job which must be done. And I have a wife..
`Bob told me you were separated from her – have been for a long time.'
`Newman talks too much. We'll finish the champagne and then go…'
`An insurance job? You help people who are kidnapped – or who might be. Wealthy people…'
`That's right. I can't talk about it. Drink up…'
They collected Newman from Ann Grayle's sloop. Diana waited at the end of the landing-stage, keeping well away from what she called `that Grayle woman'.
It was only a short walk to the station, Travemunde Hafen. Aboard the empty train Diana sat by herself further along the coach, staring out of the window.
`She's upset,' Tweed explained to Newman, and told him about the letter and the outboard dinghy she had witnessed crossing to Priwall Island, the facts she had reported to Kuhlmann.
`A lot of people must have those dinghies,' Newman objected. 'I've seen at least a dozen of them.'
`That's what I said to her. There's something she didn't tell me – but I think she told Kuhlmann. Hence the raid. I think we've lost Dr Berlin for some time, maybe for good. And I've remembered what Diana said that seemed important – but not when she said it.'
`What was that?'
`Later…'
Tweed had spotted Diana leaving her seat and coming back to their part of the coach. She seemed quite different, her mood was impish, her walk light-footed. She sat down opposite Tweed.
`Sorry,' she said.
'For what?'
`Being so ill-mannered – going off on my own. I had the Black Dog perched on my shoulder – isn't that what Churchill used to say? I read it in a book. I had a decision to make…'
`Nothing to be sorry about,' Tweed assured her. 'Want to tell me about your decision?'
'Yes. I told that Federal policeman, Kuhlmann, more than I told you. That was why I had the raid on my conscience. I think you should both know what I did tell him. Especially since what happened when the police raid took place – the way Dr Berlin drove off at speed.'
`Clearly he wanted to avoid the police,' Tweed remarked.
'I told you Kuhlmann could be very persuasive. I told him I'd phoned Dr Berlin at his home just before midnight. He never goes to bed before two o'clock. He was always up late in the old Kenya days.'
She hesitated, dropped her eyes, and Tweed frowned at Newman to stop him speaking. Diana asked Newman for a cigarette and took a deep drag after he had lit it. She stared straight at Tweed.
'There was no reply. I'd called his private number which goes straight through to his study…'
'Maybe he was in another part of the house – it's a big place.'
'Which is exactly what Kuhlmann said. After trying the private line I called the house number. Danny Warning answered it. When I asked for Dr Berlin he said he was in his study and didn't want to be disturbed. Oh, God, I must be wrong.'
'The fact remains,' Tweed said, 'your calls proved Dr Berlin was not at home at just about the time Iris Hansen was killed on the beach.'
Sixteen
'I'm flying back to London,' Tweed announced. 'In the strictest secrecy. They'll know I've arrived at Park Crescent when I walk through the front door.'
He was pacing his bedroom at the Jensen with slow deliberate steps when he told Newman. He stood very erect and there was a hardness in his voice which startled Newman.
'What has happened?' he asked. 'I'm coming with you…'
'You are not. You stay here to guard Diana Chadwick. I shall catch the express to Hamburg tomorrow, go straight from the Hauptbahnhof to the airport, buy a ticket and board the first flight.'
`I'll ask you again. Why this sudden turnabout? I know you came here because you suspected you were being led into a trap – and you wanted to spring the trap yourself…'
`I have learned things since which make me realize the crisis facing me could be infinitely worse than I suspected – the most appalling crisis Park Crescent has been confronted with since I joined the service. If I'm right – and I hope to God I'm not – I can't see how the situation could be resolved without a terrible scandal. Don't question me. I could be wrong.'
`You were going to tell me,' Newman said quietly, 'what it was that Diana said that was important.'
`She said, I quote her exact words, "or so you can see him". She was referring to the fact that I was puzzled why Dr Berlin should want to see me. She turned it round the other way.'
`You're talking in riddles…'
`And I am referring to a really gigantic riddle.' Tweed sat down and his whole manner changed. 'Now, Bob, find out any more about how Diana lives – the source of her income?'
`Ann Grayle started on about Goldenlegs again but I cut her short. Then she stopped being catty. She told me there is a strong rumour Dr Berlin supports her with an allowance – a very generous allowance. More than enough to live on. She looks after the Sudwind – and his other power cruiser, the Nordsee, berthed at that marina on Priwall Island near the ferry. Ann marked its position on this map.' He handed a folded sheet to Tweed.
`Another cruiser? How big is this Nordsee? Did she say?'
`Very big – the twin of the Sudwind. Capable of travelling long distances – and in rough weather. Berlin himself crews whichever vessel he takes out. He's often absent for long periods. No one knows where. A friend of Ann's swore he once saw the Sudwind at a marina in Oslo.'
`What is he doing on these extended voyages?'
`Contacting various European organizations which provide him finance for his work with refugees. There are quite a few in Scandinavia – I know that from my own travels…'
`And who pays for all this? The mansion on Priwall Island, the two large power cruisers. Those things eat money – even in a marina,' Tweed remarked.
`The charitable organizations I've just mentioned. I gathered from Ann Grayle Dr Berlin has a hypnotic effect on the more liberal element. His influence extends as far as the States. He's a power in the land.'
Tweed looked unhappy. 'All you're telling me makes it seem I could be right in my bizarre theory. And I want to be wrong. You simply must not let Diana out of your sight while I am away. She is blonde, remember – as were all the victims.'
`And how long will you be away?'
`A matter of days, I expect. No one must know where I've gone. If you find yourself under pressure, say "Copenhagen". And one man must not know above all others. Otto Kuhlmann.'
`Why Kuhlmann?'
`Because there is one other man who was present in Frankfurt when that Dutch girl was killed, and also here when Helena Andersen and Iris Hansen were hacked to pieces.'
`Who is that?'
`Otto Kuhlmann.'
`That phone call was negative,' Markus Wolf reported to General Lysenko in his fifth-floor office in Leipzig.
`In what way? Get to the point.'
`Munzel carried out an initial attack on Tweed. He does that sometimes – to get the measure of his target. The attack was not conclusive owing to the intervention of the British foreign correspondent, Robert Newman…'
`Tweed is still alive and well? Is that what you are trying to say to me in your devious way?' Lysenko demanded.
`Tweed still exists, yes. For the moment. Call it a trial run. The elimination of Tweed will proceed as planned…'
`Balls!' Lysenko gave full vent to his fury. 'And I have to fly back to Moscow to report to the General Secretary. He will be most pleased, I am sure.'
